Deja Vu
by LadyofSpain
Summary: Jamie takes his pregnant wife to the stones so she and the child can survive in the future. She is only 2 months along at this point. She returns promptly, only to find that somehow she went back too far, and has to relive her experiences. Her condition poses problems, but our hero marries her despite the warnings of his kin. Ultimately, Claire must see that Culloden never happens.
1. Chapter 1: History Repeats Itself

Déjà Vu

By Lady of Spain

Disclaimer: D. Gabaldon owns all rights to Outlander

 **. . . . .**

Chapter 1: History Repeats Itself

Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ! Here I was, once more dumped on the opposite side of Craigh na Dun, while he went calmly to get himself bloody well killed on that notorious field. Stubborn, foolish Scotsman.

Honor … I was so blasted sick to death about Jamie's sense of honor. What use was your honor, if you were six feet under?

I scrambled to my feet and waited impatiently for the time to pass; long enough for him to ride off to his death. He knew the battle of Culloden was doomed to failure from the start. Why wouldn't he listen to me, or if not to me, at least think of the future of our child? He would exist without a father to guide him.

* * *

It was particularly disorienting to return through the stones this time around. My head was reeling, and I felt nauseated and dizzy. Then the crack of a musket rang in my ear. Were there skirmishers this far from the main battle? Trying to avoid the stragglers, I moved along, coming to a small stream. Oh, bloody hell, it was like a déjà vu, for there, filling his canteen at its bank, was that miserable excuse for a man, Captain Black Jack Randall.

The brute looked up at my approach, and smirked at me. Instinctively, I retreated a step, turning to escape, when he grabbed the back of my bodice. He gave me a shove, pinning me against a tree, his face mere inches from mine. "Get your filthy hands off me, you bastard," I screamed.

Clicking his tongue in a mocking fashion, the beast remarked, "Tut-tut. Such a sharp tongue. Strewth, it is not becoming to an English lady. I conclude then, that you must certainly are English, but not entirely a lady. So, you are either servicing his majesty's troops, since you're out here all alone, or more credibly, working as an infiltrator for the Scots."

What on earth was he doing here? And why was he uttering such rubbish? Could he never let it go? We'd been over this numerous times. Nonetheless, I had to think fast, so I clawed at his chest, and when he backed away somewhat, I kicked him hard in the leg, and ran for all I was worth.

As I sprinted away from the blackheart, the rain began to descend in a torrent, soaking me to the skin. Blasted Scotch weather!

I kept out of sight of the skirmishers, not wanting to stop a bullet myself. Finally, I heard a din of voices with the distinct taint of the Scottish burr. It was emanating from a cabin, just over the next rise, and even from this distance, it seemed familiar.

There was an argument going on inside as to what was to be done to one of the men. Apparently, the inference was the man in question had dislocated his arm. Closer now, I was startled to distinguish Dougal's voice, and doubly so when Murtagh jumped from the bushes, shouting, "Why are ye here, traipsin' 'bout in the dark, and in this bluidy wet?" Before I could say a syllable. He gripped my arm, declaring, "Ye'll come along wi' me lass."

I followed the squirrely little curmudgeon into the cottage and to my astonishment, the sight of several of my acquaintances met my eyes, and moreover, Dougal, Angus and Rupert. But even more amazing, I now spotted who the men were arguing over. Sitting there on a rough wooden bench before the fire was none other than my clot-headed husband, Jamie. He looked to be in pain, with one hand across his chest, bracing his right shoulder. I sighed in disgust—not again! But wait, weren't they all supposed to be at the battle? This scenario made not a bit of sense.

Angus strode forward, and I suddenly realized what he was about to do. "No, wait. You'll bloody well break his arm. Stand aside, Angus; I'll do it."

Looking as if thunderstruck, Angus halted in his tracks, and asked, "How is it ye know my name?"

What a stupid question. "Oh, for heaven's sake, just stand aside. I'll do the honors."

As I crouched down beside Jamie, I scolded, "How on earth did you manage to dislocate that shoulder again? I swear, you'd think once was enough for a lifetime. You've got to be more careful. Really, Jamie …"

Those beautiful topaz eyes widened. "What's that ye said?"

"Never mind that now." I glanced behind me at the Scottish mob standing there, slack-jawed. Dougal had his eyebrows raised. He looked to Angus, and then to Rupert, not saying a word.

Shaking my head at the lot of them, I turned away, attending to the grueling task of setting Jamie's shoulder back into its socket. And once more, I had to procure something to support the arm. The belt holding up Angus' breeks filled the bill.

Angus balked when I suggested his belt could be put to compassionate use. Looking to their leader, I appealed, "Dougal, tell him to give me the bloody belt, will you, please?"

"Give it to the lass," he deadpanned.

* * *

With the leather strip securely about Jamie's neck, I was hoiked abruptly to my feet by Rupert, and turned to face the war chief. Dougal's eyes shot daggers at me, as he spouted, "Now, I suppose ye'd like to tell us what ye're doin' here, and how ye're privy to our names?"

Was this some sort of joke? If it was, I was not laughing. It suddenly occurred to me that this cabin, this whole scenario seemed familiar. Oh, no! Had I traveled back too far? It was the only explanation for all the odd conversations. Quickly, I fabricated a plausible tale: "Well, I came upon this cabin, and could hear the discussion from where I stood. I hazarded a guess that you must be Dougal, and took a chance that beltless here might be Angus."

"And who might I be speakin' to?"

I nodded, smiling, and put out my hand. "Claire Beechum from Inverness."

Dougal, scoffed, and declined to shake it. "And I say, ye're a long ways off from Inverness, Lass." Pointing his index finger at me, he roared, "I think maybe ye're a Sassenach spy, roamin' 'bout."

"What? No, I've just lost my bearings."

He waved his hand in the air. "Lost, ye say? With nay a horse, nor escort. Och … Ye believe me to be a fool, do ye?"

I sputtered, "I never said that. I…"

Dougal interrupted, "For now, we'll take ye to Leoch, and have Collum solve this riddle. We've nay time to puzzle it out ourselves."

Bloody hell, the almighty, Laird, Collum MacKenzie. It dawned on me that I would be reliving my recent life over again. The thought was disconcerting. Bad as it was the first time, it would be infinitely worse now that I was cognizant of what was to come. As Jamie would say, "Ifrinn!"

My main concern was my bond with Jamie. Would our love emerge as before? That remained to be seen.


	2. Chapter 2: A Bumpy Start

Chapter 2: A Bumpy Start

Disclaimer: D. Gabaldon owns Outlander

* * *

Dougal shoved me roughly out the door of the cabin. I instinctively stepped toward Donas. Jamie mounted the beast, and I very nearly reached for his hand, forgetting that in their minds, none of this had occurred yet. Bloody hell, I had to tread lightly, retracing my steps as if I was none the wiser.

We rode for days, until we came upon Cock's Comb, a promontory peak with a good view of the surrounding area. I pointed out that it had been used in the past to ambush unwary Highlanders. Dougal took me at my word, albeit he scrutinized my face as he did so.

In the next seconds, I steeled myself in anticipation of the fall from the saddle, nevertheless, I was a mass of scratches and bumps as a result. After dusting myself off, I ran to the place where Jamie had previously found me, and as expected he was right on time, his claymore unsheathed. The man was literally splattered with blood, despite his denial of much of it being his own. The nurse in me was anxious to dress his wound then and there, but had to play out the scene as it was written, so to speak.

While back on the trail, I winced, as I felt Jamie, swaying precariously in the saddle, and finally slipping to the ground. I kept my wits about me though, and directed the men to transport him away from the road, and place him safely among the concealing shrubs.

Remembering the perplexed appearance of the men as I inquired about an antiseptic, I jumped ahead to the following: "Do any of you have a flask of whiskey, perchance?"

Rupert stepped forward, proffering the necessary alcohol. "Oh, aye."

As I poured the liquid over his wound, I was astonished that this whole scenario had elicited lingering feelings of anger toward Jamie's careless attitude toward his own welfare—the foolish Scotsman.

Practically shouting at him, I blared, "You could have saved yourself from an injurious fall, if only you'd said something about being _shot_!"

Instead of being insulted, Jamie stared at me, silently, with a playful gleam in his eye—a gleam I had seen quite often in our amorous association.

The warchief interjected, "Och … the lass has a wee bit o' a temper, I see."

With a scornful glare at Dougal, I spouted, "Indeed, I most certainly do, and it would behoove you to stay out of my way."

"We'll see 'bout that."

He turned to Jamie. "Get on yer horse, lad, and Mistress Beechum, see as ye'll do the same."

Straightening up to my full height, I fired back, "I will do no such thing, and neither will this man. He needs to rest awhile. He's lost a lot of blood."

"Ye'll be directin' us now, will ye?"

I rolled my eyes, and turned my back to the brute. "Oh, go tell it to the marines."

Dougal didn't honor me with a comment, instead, he told Angus: "Hoist the lass into the saddle. Rupert and I will help Jamie. We canna risk loiterin' here'bouts too long afore the Sassenachs will be crossin' swords wi' us, ye ken. Druit!"

The warchief was impossible. I don't believe he had a compassionate bone in his entire body. I'd always been leery of him, and for good reason. The man would kill his own mother to further his ambitions.

* * *

We approached Castle Leoch, and it was almost with a hint of nostalgia that I entered the gate. Fitz greeted us, and I had to remind myself not to give her a warm embrace.

In no time at all, I was ensconced in a tub of water, and Fitz was fussing over me, helping with my bath. After she was satisfied that I'd been scrubbed and polished, she dressed me in some fresh woolen clothing.

She stepped back, and gave me an appraising nod. "Ah, now ye'll be presentable to meet himself."

"You mean, the Laird."

"Aye, his lairdship, Colum MacKenzie."

Biting her lip, she hesitated, then remarked, "I best warn ye, tho', he has an affliction o' sorts, as his legs are bowed out in a most peculiar fashion."

"I'll keep that in mind. I'm grateful to you for the warning, and don't worry, Mrs. Fitzgibbons, I promise not to stare."

"Ye may call me, Fitz, if it pleases ye, as the rest o' the gentry here. Mistress Fitzgibbons is a wee bit o' a mouthful, ye might say."

"Thank you, Fitz." _Thanks, indeed. I feared I might well commit a faux pas in the near future, and revert to calling her that by name prior to receiving her permission to do so._

Now, if ye're ready, I'll take ye to himself's talk-'bout room."

I followed her like a lost puppy, gazing at my surroundings. Should anyone have noticed me—and surely they would—I'd merely be dismissed as a new visitor.

* * *

Standing before Colum, I felt as if I was a naughty child caught in a lie. "Mistress Beechum, is it?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well, now, how is it as a Sassenach, such as yerself, was found traipsin' 'bout the highlands on a cold, wet night?"

"As I explained to Mr. MacKenzie, I was on my way to board a ship bound for France, when the coach I employed, was beset by two armed brigands. While they were embroiled in a battle of wills with the driver, I fled as fast as I could, leaving behind all my belongings. I regret to say, I have no means of ascertaining the fate of the coachman."

With eyes narrowed, Colum replied, "That is nay concern o' the MacKenzies." He waved one hand at me. "Ye may leave my presence now, but ye're welcome to stay at Leoch 'til the tinker arrives. He can take ye op to meet wi' the ship."

Bowing, I murmured, "Your Lairdship." I curtsied and left the room.

* * *

On the journey down the staircase, I asked a servant girl how to find Mrs. Fitzgibbons, so as not to raise any suspicions.

Fitz was agreeable to furnish clean bandages, fresh herbs and other paraphernalia to concoct a poultice for Jamie's wound. In truth, she had a soft spot for him, not that I blamed her. He was a charming person, and Fitz knew him since he was but a child.

* * *

Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ, it was like pulling teeth to get the stubborn Scotsman to follow me to the secluded room. "Mr. MacTavish," I blustered, "If you don't allow me to tend to that wound in your shoulder, it will quite probably fester, and your whole arm will be ripe for the amputating physician."

Jamie scowled at me, and made his familiar, guttural sound of distaste as we began our trek to the makeshift surgery. "Och, Dougal was right. Ye're a headstrong lass, wi' a temper as weel."

I bade him sit in a chair that I had previously placed in the middle of the room near the hearth, then started to remove his jerkin. I felt him flinch as the sark slipped up over his head, exposing the crisscross of scars left by a cat o' nine tails, applied by that odious brute, Captain Black Jack Randall. He relaxed somewhat while I went about my ministrations.

The conversation followed as my memory served, and when I completed the task, he commented, "Yer husband is a verra lucky man. A light touch, ye have."

With great difficulty, I conjured up a few crocodile tears, so that when he comforted me in that state, it would seem natural to him that I would grieve for my missing spouse. He leaned forward, extending his hands, and I eagerly nestled my head into his chest. His arms encircled about me, he asked, "Is he no livin' then?"

Finally, the truth fell from my tongue. "No … he is not living." _Yet._

Patting my hair, he said, "Then, I'm verra sorry to distress ye so."

"No matter. It's been a while, and I've seen fit to go on without him."

Was I imagining things, or did Jamies' hold on me tighten considerably after that revelation?

* * *

It was verra strange, the effect the lass had on me. We had just made our acquaintance, and already, I was taken captive by her charms, temper or no. I was enchanted by the flashin' o' her eyes—sherry in christal, they were, and the curls o' her dark hair, and the way she spoke plain as day, like she had a fire in her gut, just burstin' to come out. I'd ne'er had the pleasure o' meetin' wi' such a couthie woman. Och …my heart was stirred, yet shamefully I had to hide my feelin's, what wi' the lass bein' marrit and all.

As we rode along, I was pleased to have her tight agin' me, her heid restin' at my shoulder. Wi' a bit o' regret, I had to push her from the saddle when Dougal gave the signal. I couldna bring her wi' me into battle. Why did we havta see the Cock's Comb? I didna want her to leave my side.

When we reached Castle Leoch, my heart saddened, as her closeness would be nay more. She had bidden me come wi' her to have my wounds tended to, but it grieved me sorely, as I'd have to bare my scarred back to her. I didna want her damn pity.

Her touch was so gentle, like a light breeze opon me. Her dark hair had fallen across her face while she went 'bout applyin' the poultice, and I breathed in the fragrance o' those wet curls. I couldna look away from the angel, and when she confessed as she was a widow, my heart burst wi'in my chest, so great was my joy. _Claire, can ye no stay wi' me? France is so verra far away._


	3. Chapter 3: Feminine Wiles

Chapter 3: Feminine Wiles

Disclaimer: D. Gabaldon owns Outlander

* * *

Jamie gave me his promise to shield me from the suspicious lot—for the second time—after ministering to his wound, but I still felt uneasy with all eyes on me as I walked into the great hall that evening. A hush had come over the seated diners, and the susurrus didn't start up again until, I had accepted the seat between _Hobson's choice_ , Colum and Dougal, respectively. As I ate, I looked around the room, searching for Jamie, to no avail.

Remembering how tipsy I'd become on my last venture, I decided to imbibe sparingly. No sense in inviting a miserable hangover on the following morning. I left the wagging tongues behind, and slipped off to my assigned bedroom.

* * *

Auld Alec was hoverin' 'bout me, makin' sure I was earnin' my keep, I suppose. Ever' time, I stopped to take a bit o' breath, there he was, complainin' as I was shirkin' my bluidy duty. So fixed on trainin' the new colt to avoid his constant caterwaulin', I didna take to notice o' the lovely lass as stood by the gate wi' a basket o' victuals and such. I heard her call, but had forgotten as I had been usin' the name o' Jamie McTavish. The auld grump walked beside me, pokin' me in the back to get my attention. "Are ye deef, lad? Did ye no hear the lass callin' to ye?"

With a keek o'er my shoulder, I quickly handed the tether to the bad-tempered man. "Oh, aye, but I didna think it was me she was callin' to."

Scowlin' at me, he said, "Weel, go see what she wants o' ye. Then get back to yer work."

"Christ, d'ye always havta be in such a foul mood? The lass can hear ye, I expect."

"Just do as ye're told. I'm sure she appreciates as work needs to be doon. No all o' us can traipse 'bout the hills, bringin' baskets o' sorts to lazy stable hands."

I rolled my eyes at that man, and turned, saunterin' to the gate, no wantin' to appear hasty, mind. "Ah, Mistress Beechum …"

She nodded, a smile lightin' op her face. "Mr. McTavish. You know you may call me Claire if you've a care to."

"Och … d'ye think it proper, seein' as we only just met a few days ago?"

"I don't see why not. Aren't we friends now? Besides, Mistress Beechum is so formal. Certainly a mouthful too."

I couldna help the grin as formed on my face. "Aye, I see yer meanin'. So, Claire it is, then."

I opened the gate for her to pass thru, but couldna think o' another thin' to say. My words somehow got stuck in my craw, the beauty o' her renderin' me speechless, and that was some doin', considerin' how I liked to ramble on 'bout most anathin'. Liftin' the basket, she broke the silence, sayin', "I thought you might be hungry, so I brought along some lunch to share."

Takin' it from her arm, I led her to the awnin', away from the dusty ground. "I thank ye truly. Auld Alec would rather see me starve than take a wee tick to eat a bite."

While we ate and talked, I studied her manner and expressions. She was a Sassenach, o' a truth, but a bonny lass, and verra couthie as well. Sassenach or no, I felt comfortable beside her.

Our time t'gether was no long enough. Auld Alec came a nosin' round, frownin' and mutterin', "Talkin' to that Sassenach spy when there's horses waitin' in the stables."

Claire heard him namin' her a spy. Her face flushed, and in an instant, had all the remainin' food, fixin's and such put back in the basket. I was verra sorry to see her go on to the courtyard. But, I did see her in a rowdy-dow wi' Rupert, as made me fill wi' amusement. She was a feisty lass, to be sure, not a lass to trifle wi'.

While I returned to the business at hand, I thought 'bout why she'd come to the stables. Could it be as she saw me as more than a friend? The lass looked so taken by me, or was I just imaginin' it was so?

* * *

Jamie was such an innocent, it seemed devious to the point of criminality for me to manipulate him with my feminine wiles, such as they were. However, what could I do? My situation was desperate. In a few short weeks, my condition would be on display for all to see. Would I be an outcast when it became obvious? Bloody hell, I wanted Jamie at my side, not only because I was carrying his child, although I suppose that would certainly be enough reason, but because I missed him dearly.

Oh, sod it all! I felt like a prostitute attempting to hook a prospective client. It was not a feeling I enjoyed. Why did I have to fall through the wrong timeframe? While my head roiled about with these things, I thought perhaps I was looking at the situation all wrong. If I was precognizant of what would surely occur, I could possibly avoid it, or at least some of it, anyway. It was clear to me that I had to wade through certain key events to arrive at my primary goals, that of the altar, and eventually, evading the massacre at Culloden.

A most disagreeable mood settled upon me as I made my trek to Leoch. I found that bumping into Rupert—spying on me no less—left my irritable state in an accelerated mode. Sorry to say, I chastised him even more soundly than the last time. Poor Rupert, he was only doing Dougal's bidding.

After leaving the poor man licking his wounds, I trudged along to the castle, sighing with every step.

* * *

As the week flew by, I searched out Jamie at every free moment he or I had. Then the day came when the tinker arrived. Dougal caught me up just as I loaded my basket onto the cart. _No surprise there._

He reached over and grabbed the basket.

"What in blazes do you think you're doing?"

With a serious expression on his face, he stated, "My brother wishes to see ye."

With arms akimbo, I spouted, "Does he now? Just as I'm about to go with the tinker? Whatever for?" _As if I didn't know …_

Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted Jamie looking on, a smile beginning to spread over his face.

* * *

Dougal delivered me to his lairdship in due haste. I was surprised to see Colum waiting for us at the door to the _talk-about_ room. He nodded to Dougal, "I thank ye, brother. Ye can go 'bout yer business now."

The warchief left with my basket still on his arm. Colum directed his next comments to me. "Come wi' me, Mistress Beechum. There's somethin' I must show ye."

I walked slowly to accommodate his awkward gait, and finally passed through the arch to the surgery.

Clearing his throat, Colum began, "Mistress Fitzgibbons tells me ye've a considerable knowledge o' healin' herbs and such. We've no had a beaton for nigh on six months. It's my pleasure as ye stay on as our healer."

"But what about the tinker?"

Colum stared right into my eyes. "Ye and I both know there are nay such kin in France. So, it'd be best if ye could live here and see to the health o' our people."

I dug down into my flair for the dramatic, acting as if my sensibilities had been offended. "What you really mean is that you wish to keep me under your watchful eye."

His face turned to stone. "I'm offerin' ye the protection o' these walls, and my lairdship. My will be doon, whether ye agree or no."

"Just as I suspected. Lovely …"

"That tongue o' yers seems as a tart sort. I wouldna advise ye to speak to me in that fashion, Lass. Ye're a Sassenach, and I can make life verra unpleasant for one such as yerself. ye ken?"

"Oh, I ken alright, only too clearly."

"Then ye take my meanin' and that's an end to it."

"Yes, I suppose it is."

Colum smacked his lips in a display of smug satisfaction. "Weel, ye'll be wantin' a talk wi' Mistress Fitzgibbons to get the surgery fitted to yer needs."

He turned on his wobbly heels, and left me on the step of the surgery without looking back.

* * *

I kept busy for the next forty-eight hours, cleaning and organizing the neglected suite. Jamie came by on the second day to see what he could do to help.

"I expect ye'd need my assistance to place yer containers and tins on the higher shelves, what with there no bein' a ladder 'bout, aye?"

"Yes, that would be extremely helpful."

Glancing about, he said, "Looks as ye might be in need o' a few shelves put to right as weel."

"Are you certain Auld Alec can spare you?"

"Oh, aye. I hurried through my chores, so as I could be wi' ye." Suddenly realizing what he said, a blush flamed the surface of his face clear up to the roots of that red hair. "Och … I mean I thought ye might be needin' my help, seein' as ye've nay friends here, except for myself."

We worked side by side, and I purposely brushed against him now and then. When we finished arranging all the stock, and essential paraphernalia, we lunched in the great hall. Since he hadn't broached the subject, I brazenly asked, "How is it that a strapping young chap like you isn't yet married?"

"Och … ye see, there's a price on my head. A lass would havta be a bit touched to be marrit to me, or leastwise, one as was adventurous, and no faint o' heart."

Winking at him, I quipped, "Someone like me perhaps?"

His eyebrows rose an inch. "Ye mean to say ye'd marry an outlaw?"

"Yes, indeed. I would. If you really love someone, what difference would his past make?

"I deem you to be a good person. I cannot fathom whatever act you committed to deserve the label of outlaw in the first place."

The poor man averted his eyes, studying the food on his plate, his admission of guilt painful. "I was defendin' my sister's honor. Then I was sent to Wentworth prison, but I escaped."

"So, see? I knew you were unfairly judged."

Looking up slowly to meet my eyes, he offered, "I wouldna expect The Watch to agree wi' yer estimation."

I shook my head. "Oh, really, Jamie, I don't give a toss what the bloody Watch have to say about it!"

He didn't reply to my comment, but a grin lit up his face, and that said it all.

* * *

 **A/N: One of my latest anonymous reviewers left me a note after the first chapter of "A Feisty Lass", stating that Diana Gabaldon did not want any fanfictions written about her work, and requested that I take down the story. I checked the list of authors on this site who withhold their permission to do so before I began any Outlander tales. Her name was not on the list. If in the future she chooses to place her name on the list, I will graciously remove my stories. However, until that time, "Slainte mhath" to Jamie and Claire!**


	4. Chapter 4: The Inevitable

Chapter 4: The Inevitable

Disclaimer: D. Gabaldon owns all rights to Outlander

* * *

A few more days flew on by, and the local grievances were being laid bare before the arbitrator, Colum. And, blast, front and center stood that devious little chippy, Laoghaire. Her father had dragged his daughter in, and set the red-faced girl before her judge. I bit my tongue as Jamie, ever the savior of seemingly helpless females—although it was debatable in her instance—stood in her stead, as the whipping boy.

Rupert certainly didn't spare the rod, so to speak, delivering every strike with sufficient force as to fell an ox. I looked away while he pelted Jamie with the last blows, one connecting with his yet unhealed wound. That odious warchief, Dougal, smugly looked on, orchestrating the brutal event with villainous aplomb.

I had already made the acquaintance of Geillis on previous occasions, and during this spectacle, she was at my side. On witnessing my obvious distress, she led me to the back entrance of the surgery, unaware of my familiarity with all the nooks and crannies of Leoch. She left quickly, just a few minutes before Fitz dropped off my foolish patient. The castle matron returned with a glass container filled with leeches, which thanks to her former tutorial, I applied to his bruised and swollen left eye.

After Fitz exited the room, I completed my ministrations, including the re-dressing of his shoulder wound, which had reopened and began oozing serosanguinous fluid. I then sat myself beside Jamie, holding his hand. "I'm well aware of the reason you did it, Jamie. But, please, don't ever volunteer to do that again. I thought my heart would leap from my chest and drop to the floor, watching that brutal exhibition. And Dougal … he as much as enjoyed seeing you beaten to a bloody pulp. His own nephew—the filthy blackheart!"

Patting my hand, he replied, "Och … dinna fash, Claire. I'll heal op, right as rain in a day or so, I expect."

I glanced at his handsome face, now marred by patches of purple, and mounds of swollen tissue. With tears glistening at the sight, I turned away from him, attempting to belay the trickle starting to form, and abruptly changed the subject, "That eye, alone, will be ecchymotic for a week at least."

His forehead crinkled in confusion. "Achy-what?"

"Oh. I'm sorry. How stupid of me. That's a medical term for the black and blue splotches caused by a direct impact."

"Aye, ye mean, Rupert givin' me a taste o' his fists."

"Yes, to put it mildly."

I pivoted my head and looked at him again, remembering how much I loved my Scotty. This time, I couldn't contain the wet drops as they cascaded down my cheeks. "Oh, Jamie …"

He pulled me to his good shoulder, gently stroking my back with one hand. "I suppose this means as ye care 'bout me, aye?"

"Yes, I do care about you."

"Are ye sayin' ye like me then?"

Tilting my head up to face him, I choked out, "I like you to distraction."

With a grin, he said, "I like ye fine as weel, Sassenach."

"I guess that's something."

"Christ, I'm hopin' as I willna be takin' another beatin' for doin' so."

I wiped the tears from my face, leaning back a few inches. "If Rupert so much as raises a hand to you, I swear to God, I'll shoot him where he stands."

His uninjured eye widened at that comment. "I believe ye would."

I nodded and smiled despite my tears.

* * *

After ever' meetin' wi' my Sassenach, I couldna wait to see her agin. And so, when the rents were due, I was filled wi' joy, as my Claire was to accompany us. I could be near her for a fortnight, and for that I was verra grateful. I wondered tho' what future we could have t'gether, ye ken. Would she consent to be marrit to me, a fugitive wi' a price on my heid? She said as much, but talkin' isna the same as doin'.

Sleepin' wasna comin' easy, what wi' all these thoughts, mind. And when I did, my dreams were filled wi' the image o' her—the curly hair, black as a raven's wing, the blush o' her cheek, the mesmerizin' eyes o' sherry, and the tantalizin' curve o' her lips. _Ah, Claire, what have ye doon to me? Ye've captured my heart, and I dinna e'en want it returned. It's yers to keep, now and fore'er._

Dougal kept me busy, so as I didna have as much time wi' my Sassenach as I had supposed. Whene'er we were t'gether, his eyes followed us. The man didna seem too happy. Ye'd think he wanted Claire for himself.

She pointed this out to me one day as we sat at the noon meal. "Why is Dougal always staring at us?"

Catchin' a glimpse o' him, I hadta admit, he was. I lied to her, sayin', "Och, Pay him nay mind. He still thinks o' ye as a Sassenach spy, I expect."

Her eyes flashed wi' a temper I'd seen so many times afore. "Spy, indeed. Now, I ask you, after all this time, what information could I possibly glean from extracting splinters, lancing boils, and concocting fever medicine? I'm never allowed out of the castle walls without an escort, so how could I pass on information to anyone, even if I had some to give?"

"Aye, I can see the truth o' it, but my uncle is o' a different sort, ken?"

Sassenach glared back at Dougal, and huffed loud enuff for him to hear. She turned her heid, and spooned op a bit o' turnip from her dish.

* * *

During the collection of the rents, we came to a village that I remembered quite clearly. It was the place where the leftenant had seen me, and asked about my welfare. Although I knew what would transpire, I willingly joined the ladies to prepare their wool, and allowed Angus after finding me, to march me off to the wagon they were loading. I made sure that Leftenant Foster saw the way in which the little man had treated me, so I'd later be brought before Captain Randall at Fort William. I certainly wasn't looking forward to that experience, but the fact remained, it was that very incident which necessitated my marriage to a Scotsman.

The leftenant—incognito, of course—rallied to my aid. Bowing before me, he intoned, "I surmise by your speech, that you are an English lady. May I ask if you are in need of my help?"

I nodded, smiling at him. "I appreciate your concern, but I assure you, I'm quite alright."

He stepped back, bowing again. "As you wish."

Dougal stood nearby, privy to every word spoken, a frown on his face.

With the rent money all taken care of, it was time to steer the loaded wagon back to Leoch. We stopped at the dreaded creek bed where Leftenant coincidentally had also stopped and bade me come with him to Fort William.

As soon as the horses arrived with their riders aloft, Jamie had scampered away, not wanting another bout of incarceration, not that I blamed him.

The Leftenant removed his tricorn, and with a flourish, said, "Ma'am, I must insist that you accompany me to Fort William, to ascertain the veracity of your words."

"But I already answered that question back at the village."

"Nevertheless, in the company of your own countrymen, the truth may surface without the fear of retribution. You will no longer be under duress."

Dougal stepped forward, chest puffed out like a proud peacock. "You'll no take this lass. She is under the protection o' the Laird o' Leoch."

"And, I dare say, sir, that it is my duty as an officer and a gentleman to see to it that this English lady be given the opportunity to declare her circumstances. If it so be, that she is in no danger from you, Scots, then she shall be returned unharmed."

"If she is to go, then I am bound to go wi' her."

"So be it."

According to script, Dougal served as my companion and bodyguard as before.

* * *

A group o' English soldiers rode above the rise, and I spotted them, afore they spotted me. There was money offered e'en to the Lobsterbacks for Red Jamies' capture, ye ken. I'd spurred Donas through the creek, no wishin' to be taken by those Sassenachs.

Enuff time had passed, and I supposed they'd gone. I galloped back, and immediately searched for Claire, but couldna find her anywhere.

Murtagh was curryin' his horse, while the beast munched away on the tall grasses beside the stream.

I yelled to him, "Have ye seen Claire?'

"She's no here. She and Dougal are on their way to the fort, compliments o' his majesty, the king."

Walkin' op to him, I said, "Ye mean to say as she was whisked off to Fort William, just so?"

"Aye. The smithy at the village was a soldier in disguise, the bluidy Sassenach. He thinks we're keepin' her prisoner."

"Weel, it's no far from the truth."

Murtagh grumbled, "The lass is free to traipse 'bout the castle. It's no as if she's shackled in a cell, mind. Seems to me, her work as our healer brings her some satisfaction, as weel ye ken. I'd e'en suppose as she's been happy these few weeks past. Havna ye noticed?"

"Ah, that I have. I think the lass maybe is fond o' me."

"Fond? Are ye blind, lad? She's in love wi' ye, or my name isna Murtagh."

I scratched at my ear. "Ye think so?"

Shakin' his heid, my cousin made a noise o' disgust in the back o' his throat. My face betook a crimson color. Christ, was I really that blind?

My feelin's were verra mixed. I was happy as Claire loved me, but afeared as she might be taken away by the Sassenach crown, seein' as she was subject to the King o' England and such. So were we all, but we Scotswere'na comfortable in bein' so. I was worrit as maybe she would think it best to return to her own country, leavin' me broken hearted. I paced the ground, waitin' for her to return.

* * *

It seemed strange, but having Dougal with me, comforted me a little. I knew he wouldn't let anything untoward happen, not while there was still breath in his body. Even so, my heart began to accelerate the closer we came to the fort.

Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ! I honestly tried to avoid some of the previous events I had lived through, but it was evident to me, that this heinous occasion was pivotal in the securing of my husband. If I bolted now, Jamie might never be mine.

On schedule, Black Jack arrived, interrupting a pleasant interlude with the English gentlemen, who were so graciously entertaining me.

"See here, Randall," the colonel complained. "You are in the presence of a lady. Your attire is not amenable to such."

When the colonel had thus complained of the dishabille that was Randall's uniform, Black Jack rudely struck his boots against the doorpost of the room and dusted off his jacket with the brim of his tricorn. My flesh crawled, and my stomach felt queasy. Our encounter was near at hand. I swallowed the last sips of my wine and took a deep breath.


	5. Chapter 5: Twist of Fate

Chapter 5: Twist of Fate

Disclaimer: D. Gabaldon owns all rights to Outlander

* * *

A messenger appeared at the side door, and whispered to Colonel Richmond, then stood behind his chair waiting.

"Mistress Beechum, I understand that you have considerable experience in tending to the wounded. Coincidentally, we have such a case as we speak. Would you be so kind as to lend a hand?"

"It would be my pleasure."

Richmond clapped his hands. "Jolly good." Turning to the private who delivered the message, he said, "Creighton, take this lady straightaway to the surgery to assist Dr. Davis."

The private saluted, and beckoning to me, strode out the door, with me following at his heels.

It was a familiar scene; the man's arm was gangrenous and needed amputation. I helped the good doctor, handing him the essential instruments required, and administering ether through a fabric mask.

As we cleared away the sponges and instruments, I asked the surgeon how he came to utilize the ether as an anesthetic. "May I ask about the anesthesia you used?"

"Ah, yes, of course. I trained under August Sigmund Frobenius. He taught me the effects of diethyl ether, and I am forever in his debt."

Listening with interest, I replied, "Your patients as well, I imagine."

Dr. Davis removed his blood-stained apron, and said, "It does tend to offer a less than grisly prospect to an otherwise necessary task."

With the surgery completed, the patient was transported elsewhere. The doctor thanked me for my services, and I was escorted back to the assembly room. Sadly, my respite from fear had been spent. I felt the bile rise in my throat, for I knew the English soldiers could no longer act as a buffer. The gentlemen were gone, and replaced by one, heartless, pitiful excuse for a man—Randall.

He sat in the room, awaiting my arrival, legs stretched out, feet crossed at the ankles, and firmly perched on the top of the table. "Well, well, well, we meet again, do we? Most unfortunate for you, I'm afraid."

I slowly sank into a chair. "Whatever do you mean?"

"By all _means,_ let me clarify. I mean to say; don't you find it rather peculiar that the Highlanders would feed and clothe you safely behind the stone walls of Leoch? Why it's preposterous, unless of course, you are working for them, in a little espionage, perhaps?"

I swallowed hard. "Captain Randall … as you well know, the Duke of Sandringham has need of someone to apprise him of any plans or movements of the Laird, MacKenzie."

Randall canted his head, a smirk upon his lips. "I'm intimately acquainted with the duke, and am not aware of a lady furnishing him with details of a covert nature."

"I obviously can't correspond with him directly, so I'm relegated to the use of a mediator."

"Ah, I see. So you, in effect live with the Highlanders in the hopes of falling perchance upon some clandestine plot. And all the while, the Scottish scum believe you to be a spy for the British crown. How droll."

"Yes."

"And to whom do you pass on your information?"

"Why, his wife, of course."

Buffing his fingernails on the front of his uniform jacket, he snidely rebutted, "Of course—his wife. But seeing that he HAS no wife, I have come full circle in my assumption that you are indeed, working for them in the capacity of maybe say, gathering intelligence?"

I sprang to my feet, feigning incense. Walking toward him, I turned slightly and bowed at the waist in anticipation of the impending blow, consequently shielding the unborn child I carried within me. In my present stated posture, Randall halted. Then, instead of hitting me full force in the abdomen, he grabbed my hair, hauling me upright.

He spit out between clenched teeth, "That won't do, no … won't do at all."

The shock of the first slap to my face made me gasp. He struck me again and again, making my eyes water. I let out a scream, "Dougal, help me! Dougal!"

Randall slid behind me, pulling my head backward. He then shoved his knee into my back, forcing me to crumple to my knees.

The Highland warchief came roaring in, interrupting the fracas.

His hand still tangled in my hair, the captain used it to whip my head around to face Dougal. "Jolly good timing, MacKenzie. Take this little trollop back to the hills, but I must insist you bring her here in three days. I haven't quite finished my interrogation yet."

Dougal's eyes were amassed with fire. "Is that what ye call abusin' a helpless lass?"

The captain finally released the hair from his hand and circled one finger in the air. "Helpless? Strewth, she could no doubt best us all with her wiles."

He nudged me with the toe of his boot. "Get up, Mistress Beechum—if that's really your name. Leoch is apparently calling to you."

With a withering glare at the beast, Dougal helped me up, and we walked out the door together.

The whole way to the creek, Dougal muttered away in his native tongue. I tried not to speak, myself, as my jaw was painful, and a few of my teeth loosened. Black Jack—that blasted fiend! I had to count my blessings, however. Jamie's child was safe within in my womb.

When we arrived back at the starting point, Dougal gathered up the men, talking to them in Gaelic. I watched as the eyebrows rose, startled, and then all eyes turned to me at the end of the soliloquy. I noticed a different expression—the look of distress—on Jamie's face. He looked away, and strode back to the wagon, alone.

I started after him, but Murtagh caught my arm. "Leave him be, Lass. Let the lad mourn by hisself."

"Mourn? But, I don't understand. What did Dougal say?"

Pointing at the warchief, Murtagh said, "Maybe ye should ask Dougal, yerself."

Standing next to Ned Gowan, our itinerant attorney, Dougal looked as if he expected some type of inquiry from me. And he was bloody well right. "What was that little speech all about, Dougal?"

"Weel, it's like this. I'll no turn ye o'er to that villain. And the only way to keep ye from his clutches is for ye to marry a Scotsman. Ned, here is 'bout to draw op the papers."

I breathed a sigh of relief. _Finally, the goal is in sight._

Playing my part, I said, "And who, pray tell, is to be my bridegroom?"

Ned blanched, and took a step back, as Dougal declared, "Ye're lookin' straight at him."

"Whaaaat?" _No, this is all wrong_.

"Dinna look so surprised, Lass. I've been wi'out a wife nigh on two years now. I need a wife; and ye're in need o' a Scotch husband."

"No, I will _not_ consent to this sham. I'd rather die first."

"If ye dinna marry me in the next seventy-two hours, ye _will_ die. Black Jack will see to it. He'll kill ye, or worse, and if so, ye'll wish ye were deid."

* * *

I was speechless. How did this come about? This was not supposed to happen. It just couldn't be. It was a bloody nightmare. Did I do or say something that changed my history? I avoided some instances, certainly, but I never dreamed that it would lead to this. Married to Dougal? I wanted to run, to cry, to scream. Instead, I reached for the nearest flask of whiskey I could find. I promised myself not to drink any alcohol in my condition, but I just needed a _wee_ belt—just this once!

* * *

At Dougal's words, I felt my heart as it tore in half. I would ne'er find another woman as was anathin' like Claire. Was I doomed to be alone for the rest o' my life? It didna seem fair. Sassenach had given me hope as she might someday be mine, and now, it was all for naught. I started to walk away from the men, when Murtagh caught my eye, noddin' in sympathy. I couldna get to the wagon fast enuff. I didna want anaone to see the tears as was comin' from my eyes. It was probably foolish o' me. There was no one o' them as didna ken as I was in love wi' the lass, least o' all, Dougal. I would ne'er forgive the man, but he was my uncle, and there was nothin' to be doon, but bear op in spite o' it.

* * *

We reached Leoch at nightfall. I wanted desperately to speak with Jamie at that time, but he was nowhere to be found. After I got my surgery ready for the next day, I started up the stairs to my room. That's when I caught a glimpse of him in the great hall. I called to him, but he turned, escaping into the courtyard.

Running after him, I called a second time. "Jamie! Please—talk to me."

When he decided that I wouldn't stop following until he complied with my request, he leaned against a wall and waited for me to catch him up.

"Jamie, I…"

He extended his hand, palm out. "There's nothin' to be said, Sassenach. Dougal will have his way, and that's an end o' it."

"But I don't want you to think I had anything to do with this."

"Ne'ertheless, ye'll be his wife, and truth be told, maybe it's for the best. He's the warchief; he can protect ye, and bring ye honor."

"I don't want any dubious honor. And I abhor the thought of marrying him."

"I'm verra sorry, Sassenach. I thought for a time as ye might somehow be mine, but I expect as it was all a dream as was ne'er to be."

"No, Jamie, no."

"What would ye have me do then? Run off wi' ye? Ye ken as Dougal would ne'er let that happen. He'd track us down 'til our dyin' days. Nay, that's no a way to live, and I canna abide ye always lookin' o'er yer shoulder. God be wi' ye, Sassenach. I'll be leavin' for Lallybroch on the morrow."

"You can't mean that."

"Aye, I do. I'll treasure ever' moment we had t'gether, but now it must end."

I reached out, clinging to him, and sobbing my heart out.

He gently pushed me away from him, his face a mask of pain. "Claire, ye've had a long day, and ye need yer rest. Now, go, afore I beg ye to stay."

Jamie trudged in the opposite direction, as I left to return to the castle.

I tossed and turned all night long. And so, ultimately I surrendered and got out of bed early. Heading to the surgery, I was cursing my luck, still so furious with that blackguard, Dougal. I was banging around with the bottles and tins in my frustration, so much so, that I dropped a cruse of Valerian root on the stone tiles, and nearly fell forward, attempting to retrieve it. On picking up the odorous herb, I accidentally stepped on the hem of my skirt, ripping it loose, along with my shift.

Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ! Just what I needed! I quickly returned to my room and got out my box of mending necessities. I looked over the material. Blast—the tear was at least forty-five centimeters long.

I had just removed the damaged pieces of clothing when Laoghaire popped in—without so much as knocking, I might add—with an urgent message from Fitz. She eyed the bulge in my abdomen, and not even attempting to hide her smirk, stared at the obvious bump. There was no use in trying to conceal it now.

Already irritated, I scowled at her, and erupted, "What is it, Laoghaire?"

"Ye're needed in the surgery, Mistress. My aunt has a bleeding nose, and she canna make it stop."

"Is she waiting for me there?"

"Nay, ma'am. She's in the galley."

"Well, for heaven's sake. Take her there, have her lean her head back, and pinch her nose." With the rent clothing in my hands, I fluttered them about, and said, "I'll come as soon as I have these clothes mended."

"Aye." She took another long keek at my abdomen before turning, then retreated to the kitchen. I assumed the little wretch would proceed to elaborate to anyone with ears, on what she'd just witnessed.


	6. Chapter 6: Dougal Withdraws

Chapter 6: Dougal Withdraws

Disclaimer: D. Gabaldon owns all rights to Outlander

* * *

My godfather pulled me aside the followin' morn as I saddled Donas, and loaded op my victuals and such as needed for my journey to Lallybroch.

"What's amiss?"

Murtagh placed his hand opon my shoulder. "Before ye go, lad, ye might be interested to ken as Dougal has changed his mind 'bout marryin' the Sassenach."

"Is that so?"

"Aye. It seems as Fitz told him as Mistress Beechum is wi' child. Leastways, Dougal wants you and our kin to hear what he has to say 'bout the matter. We're to meet one hour hence in the assembly hall."

My mind was awhirl wi' this new development. Claire was wi' child? Why did she no tell me sooner? I expect she had her reasons, ye ken, but what they could be, I couldna tell.

Most o' my kin were standin' 'bout, awaitin' Dougal's declaration. He stepped op to the dais, pattin' his hand in the air, attemptin' to quiet all the murmurin' amongst us. "Why, ye may ask, have I've asked ye all to come here t'day? Weel, some o' ye may remember as I announced my intention to marry Mistress Beechum. I am now renegin' on that statement. I've had it on good authority that the same lass is wi' child. Sorry to say, I'll be takin' her to Fort William, and wash my hands o' her."

Rupert asked, "Doesna that seem harsh, Dougal? Ye ken what Black Jack may do to her."

"Och … I didna come to Leoch, wi' but the clothes on my back, and nay sensible explanation as to how I came to be in the woods that day. I canna protect her any longer, and I refuse to marry a lass as carryin' someone else's bastard. How do I ken as the child is o' her husband? I dinna e'en ken as she had a husband, only by her say so. She's lied afore, and the wench may lie 'bout this as weel.

"If anaone can think o' another way to save the lass, speak op now, or off she goes to Fort William to meet her fate."

Mutterin' spread thru the crowd. "Weel then, is there anaone here who's brave enuff to wed this woman?"

The mumurin' got a bit louder. I couldna wait a minute longer. My heart beat faster, and I stepped forward. "I will."

Murtagh tugged on my sleeve to pull me back, yellin', "He doesna ken what he's sayin'."

Dougal pointed at me. "Are ye certain, lad?"

I took a deep breath. "Aye. I'll do it."

Lookin' concerned, my godfather said, "I ken as ye love her sorely, Jamie, but this is a risk o' yer happiness, and yer future. Ye'll be givin' yer own name to the bairn."

"So be it."

I smiled at the man, thankful o' his love for me. "Dinna fash, Murtagh. I couldna live wi' myself, if I let Randall have her. I canna imagine what that dog has in mind for the lass."

He hugged me to his chest. "Good luck to ye then."

As he released me, I said, "Thank ye, truly, Murtagh."

Dougal interrupted, crookin' a finger to beckon to me and Gowan. "Jamie, Ned—I'll be needin' ye to stay here whilst we sort out the particulars." With a wave o' his hand, he concluded, "The rest o' ye lot can be on yer way."

* * *

Ned laid the official documents on a table, and scribbled opon it. "I need yer full Christian name, Jamie."

"I expected as much. It's James Alexander Malcolm MacKenzie Fraser."

"Yer birthdate?"

"Seventh o' June in the year o' our Lord, 1723."

"Good … good. I'll put down yer birthplace as Lallybroch, shall I?"

"Aye."

Ned rolled op the papers, and looked at me. "Weel then, that's all there is to it, unless ye can think o' anathin' else."

"Och … I wonder if the weddin' can take place in a kirk wi' a priest to join us?"

Turnin' to my uncle, Ned asked, "What d'ye think, Dougal, can it be doon wi' such short notice?"

"I'll arrange it. There's nay time for postin' banns, and all that, I suppose. Leastwise, I'll convince the parish priest to perform the ceremony, one way or t'other."

"Claire will need a proper gown, and I, a tartan as weel."

Ned winked at me. "I'll see to it. I ken a place where I may purchase a gown. The plaid, tho'… ye'll havta see if maybe Murtagh can borrow one for ye."

Rubbin' his hands t'gether, Ned commented, "If that's all, then I'll go on to the library, and write out a copy o' the documents. I'll talk wi' Mistress Beechum later this afternoon."

* * *

The news of my pregnancy spread like a forest fire throughout the castle. Everywhere I walked, conversations stopped, and or furtive whispering transpired, but what did I care if their tongues wagged? Let them wag. My secret was bound to be uncovered sooner or later. My main concern was getting locked in a marriage of in-convenience, or rather, how to disentangle myself from the whole sordid affair. The more I thought about it, the more depressed I became.

And so it was, that as I sat on my stone bench in the surgery, blubbering like an infant, Jamie rushed in, face flushed and out of breath. "Sassenach, I …"

I hiccupped the words, "Don't say it. I'm certainly aware that my crying won't help."

He walked to where I was seated, and knelt beside me. "Aye, a bit o' cheer is what ye need. So here it is—ye're to be marrit."

I shook my head, sorrowfully. "That's hardly news."

"Nay, I mean to me. Ye're to be marrit to me."

My mouth dropped open. "What are you saying?"

"I swear on my mother's grave; it's the truth."

"But why? I can't imagine Dougal going back on his word." I thought for a moment. "Oh, I see … he doesn't want to acquire the whole package. And how did you come into the picture? You know I'm pregnant, don't you resent him for foisting me on you?"

"It wasna like that. I volunteered."

"You what?"

"He asked if anaone o' us would be willin' to wed ye, so I volunteered."

I burst into tears again, then sniffling, looked into those azure eyes. "Oh, Jamie, that's the most unselfish thing anyone has ever done for me. You'll be such a wonderful husband."

"Ye may no think as much when ye realize ye've marrit a clot-heid."

"I love you, clot-heid."

"And I love ye, as weel, bairn and all, Sassenach."

* * *

She reached out to me, and I couldna resist. Wi' her body so close to mine, I felt as my heart was'bout to burst. We kissed for theverra first time, and the warmth o' her lips made me dizzy wi' joy. I was astonished as her fingers were entangled'bout the strands o' my hair in a most affectionate manner.

* * *

When I left the surgery, it seemed as I floated down the hall like a cloud in the sky. I wasna payin' much attention to my surroundin's, mind, when o' a sudden, a pair o' hands grabbed my coat as I heided into the courtyard.

I looked back at the hands as was holdin' me so; it was my godfather. "Ah, there ye're. I needta speak to ye."

"And I to ye as weel. Come wi' me, Jamie, there's others still as wanta bend yer ear a tick."

"What's amiss, Murtagh?"

"What's _amiss_ …? he grumbled. "Patience, lad. Let'shie to the stables, aye?"

* * *

I followed Murtagh, and once into the stable was surprised to see Angus, Rupert, and my cousins, Roderic and Paden. I was surrounded in a tight circle of kin, so as I couldna escape wi'out hearin' them out.

Roderic stood near a heid taller than me, and frowned in my face. His eyes gleamed verra menacin' like. "Dinna marry her, Jamie. It'll ruin ye, for certain."

"I appreciate yer concern, Roddy, but this is no yer business. My life is my own, ken?"

Angus piped up, pullin' at my shoulder, "He's just worrit for ye, Jamie."

"I ken as much, yet I'm bent on doin' it. So, keep yer peace, aye."

Murtagh spun me 'round to face him. "Nay, ye ken as I wished ye luck and all, the day past, but I've had misgiven's since. I canna stand by and see ye ruin yer future. Think, lad. How weel d'ye really ken the lass. Supposin' as what Dougal said was the truth?"

Rupert nudged Murtagh aside. "Aye, listen to Murtagh, and I'm tellin' ye as weel, Jamie. Ye'll regret it 'til yer dyin' day."

Paden and Roderic were the only men as were marrit, and here, my other kin were givin' me advice on who to wed?

I backed op from my cousin, beginnin' to feel the anger buildin' op in my gut. I shouted, "If I regret it, then it'll be my own doin'."

"What is wrong wi' ye? Lord, has her beauty addled yer brain, and blinded ye to the facts. The lass is nay innocent virgin, and who's to say as she was really marrit or no?"

"I thank ye, Paden, truly, but my mind is made op. I will marry Claire." I swung my arm out to send them away. "Now be off wi' ye, all o' ye."

My godfather stepped in front o' me. "But, Jamie …"

Puttin' op a finger, I said, "No another word, Murtagh. It's my decision, and there's an end to it.

"Och … I near forgot. Can ye do me a wee bit o' a favor? I'll be in need o' a good tartan for the weddin'. D'ye have one I could have the use o' for the day?"

"Aye," he growled. "I'll see if I can find ye one." His eyes rolled'bout, disgusted wi' me, I expect.

* * *

Ned came by the surgery with papers for me to sign, which I did, most willingly. Then, the day of the ceremony, Fitz entered my room with the wedding gown I remembered so well.

She stayed awhile, doing my hair up prettily, and helped me into the elegant frock. I was fearful at first that maybe it would prove to be a tight fit. It was, but not so snug as to cause me any undue discomfort.

Fitz chattered away as she worked on me. "Jamie will make ye a fine husband, wi' or wi'out a price on his heid. I've kent the lad since he was but a wee bairn."

Straightening the front pleats, she then stood upright and said, "Promise me ye'll be good to the lad, Mistress Beechum."

"I will. I love him dearly, Fitz."

"D'ye now?"

"Oh, yes indeed. I confess I love him almost to distraction."

"Ah, glad I am to hear ye say as much."

She stepped back, sniffling, and scrutinized her handiwork. "Oh, my, ye look so lovely. Jamie willna ken what to do wi' hisself."

I smiled knowingly. _Oh, he'll figure it out. I'm sure of it._

Fitz, walked toward the door, and then, hesitating, turned about. "Mistress Beechum, there's been a bit o' the clishmaclaver 'bout ye and the bairn and all, but I can tell ye're a good lass, and Jamie is lucky to have ye."

"Thank you, Fitz."

"Weel, I'll be on my way, then." She bowed and went through the door.

* * *

Ned Gowan drove the horse carriage to the church where I met Jamie, dressed in his borrowed tartan and jacket. He looked so handsome, I had to restrain myself from rushing into his arms. Apparently, the feeling was mutual, as his eyes nearly bugged out of head while he watched Ned assist me from the carriage. A grin encompassed his whole face, culminating in a warm gleam lighting his eyes.

I gestured to the church. "Well, shall we? I can't believe I will actually be Mistress—" _Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ, I almost forgot to ask him his name. That was a close one._

"Oh, wait, I haven't the slightest notion of what your name is."

He made a low bow, and kissing my hand, said, "James Alexander Malcolm MacKenzie Fraser. And it is my honor to have ye take that name opon ye."

His words pierced my heart. My knees buckled and I was about to swoon. Jamie grabbed me, and we walked together through the front door of the church. This time, I would listen to every word spoken, and keep my focus on my beloved bridegroom.


	7. Chapter 7: A woman Scorned

Chapter 7: A Woman Scorned

Disclaimer: D. Gabaldon owns all rights to Outlander

* * *

The ceremony—what I could remember of it—was essentially the same, except for the fact that I wasn't at all hesitant to repeat the vows. That … and the sight of Dougal scowling the whole bloody time. I'm certain it was mostly sour grapes on his part, and by the look on his face, it seemed he was still devouring them as well. I looked down in nostalgia as Jamie placed the ring on my finger, its twin safe in a container of dried lavender on the surgery shelf.

I was impatient to get this over with; wanting in the worse way to be alone with Jamie. I was even looking forward to that primitive blood-letting ritual.

The ceremony ultimately concluded, and we all went in a merry procession to an inn where Jamie and I would jolly-well consummate our marriage. The witnesses were drinking to excess in the room below, joining in our connubial adventure vicariously.

Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ, I tried to act demure, sitting abreast of him on the mattress, asking innocuous questions, when what I really wanted, was to tumble into bed with the man. Not wanting to scare him into thinking he'd married a wanton woman, I bridled my passion as best I could.

The poor lad was so cautious as to drive me wild. "Jamie, you may touch me. I'm not going to break, nor can you do me any harm whatsoever. I have been married before, you know."

"Aye, but I'm verra nervous. I've ne'er been wi' a woman afore, ken?"

He gazed at me so earnestly, and whispered, "D'ye mind?"

"I'm aware of that fact, but it's no matter. I'll teach you, and you'll do fine. I'm certain you'll catch on speedily."

Our conjugal exercise proceeded exceptionally well, and Jamie was surprised by my lusty response, so much so that he confessed to fearing that he had injured me. I turned over in the bed to face him. "No, Jamie. You did not hurt me. That was supposed to happen. In fact, I must say, I enjoyed it immensely."

Jamie frowned in confusion. "But Mutagh said …"

"Oh, never mind what that scruffy old bachelor said. What does he know? Where women are concerned, he is obviously clueless. We can be just as passionate as men if the partner is proficient enough."

With light in his eyes, he chirped, "Are ye sayin' as I did right by ye then?"

"More than right. You were wonderful."

My husband blushed just then. It was the sweetest sight ever.

"I'm sorry that I was pregnant for your first time, though."

"I'm no sorry, Claire. If ye were no wi' child, ye would be bedded by my uncle, and I wouldna be here wi' ye now. Truth be told, I feel lucky to have ye. I love ye, Sassenach, and I'll love the bairn as weel."

"We'll have one of our own soon enough." _If he only knew …_

"Aye. I ken it to be so."

A few minutes passed, and Jamie's breathing became shallow, heralding sleep. I tenderly ruffled his Titian curls. "Jamie, I need to ask you something."

His eyes were closed, and he answered drowsily, "Hmn …"

I suddenly found it difficult to find the appropriate words. Hesitating, I sighed, then blurted out, "Oh, for heaven's sake, I'll come right out with it. I'd really like to know if you believe that I'd been married, but lost my husband."

He propped himself up on one elbow. "Och … I've kent ye now for a bit o' time, and I ken ye to be an honest sort."

"I thank you for that, but for all it's worth, it's the truth, and someday I'll tell you all about him." _But not tonight, my Scotty._

I pulled myself closer, and placing my hands on either side of his face, pressed my lips to his. Fully awake and alert now, he rolled over atop of me, initiating a second bout of connubial bliss.

* * *

Getting used to Jamie wasn't much of an adjustment for me, seeing as we'd been previously married for nearly three years in my _past life._

The only thing marring my happiness was the niggling thought that someday I'd have to tell him that I had come through the stones, not once, but twice, and the child in my womb was his. The glint from my wedding ring shone in the light from the window, a reminder of that time together. Unbeknownst to Jamie, an exact duplicate, fashioned from the key to Lallybroch, lay safely tucked among the lavender buds.

Things were going well—too well I suppose, so some disaster was bound to occur. Then came the day when I discovered the demonic talisman under our mattress. I decided not to talk to the conniving little chippy about it, but Laoghaire had other ideas. She confronted me in the hall and itemized her grievances against me. This time, I declined the impulse to smack her. It didn't do a fat lot of good the last time, and I hazarded a guess that it would do nothing less in the present.

"You stole Jamie from me when ye kent as I loved him."

"I did no such thing. If you have a complaint about our being married, take it up with Dougal. This was all his idea, not mine." _At least not openly declared by me._

"I dinna believe a word o' yer mouth, ye lyin' bitch."

"You're trying my patience, Laoghaire, but I shall let it pass. You're young and emotional, I can see that. But Jamie is my husband and you must understand and accept reality. In time, the hurt will lessen, I promise you."

"I'll never love another like I love Jamie, and I'll ne'er forgive ye ... ne'er."

I shook my head." I'm sorry you feel that way, but now I must excuse myself. I have work to do."

As I brushed past her, she put out her foot, and deliberately tripped me. I barely maintained my balance before I hit the stone floor. Perhaps I should have slapped her after all!

* * *

Our altercation didn't stop there, for several days later, a page delivered a missive for me, supposedly from Geillis. I knew only too well who the author of said message truly was. So, accordingly, I dismissed it as though I hadn't received it.

My reaction didn't set too well with the young lady. She swept into the surgery the next day, furious that I hadn't taken the bait. I had successfully evaded another hair-raising episode in my life. I would also avoid being present at the trial. No use in tempting fate.

She fairly spit out the words, "Geillis Duncan is a sorceress, and she'll be facin' her accusers at trial. Why ye're not there wi' her is a mystery to me, for I ken as ye're one as weel. How else d'ye ken so much 'bout herbs and such. I feel sorry for Jamie bein' trapped in a marriage to a cold, selfish, Sassenach witch."

"Oh, for heaven's sake. This is nothing more than the vain imaginations of a jilted youth."

"Nay, Jamie was mine, and ye put a spell on him, and took him away from me." The girl glanced around the room, and reached up to one of my shelves, grabbing a tin. She lifted it in the air for me to view. "Did ye feed him this?"

"This is preposterous!"

Laoghaire then threw the container across the room, spilling its contents. She grabbed another. "Or this?"

I watched in shock as she continued knocking my supply of herbs off the shelf. "Laoghaire, stop!"

I rushed to her as she flung the tin of lavender. I quickly yanked off my ring, and slipped it into my apron pocket, aware of what I had hidden there. As suspected, among the buds, the ring fashioned from the key to Lallybroch appeared in stark contrast to the lavender. Curious, the devious, little minx picked it up to scrutinize it. "What's this?"

"Give me that," I shouted at her. "It's my wedding ring. Please give it back to me."

Cocking an eyebrow, Laoghaire scoffed, "Ye keep yer weddin' ring in a jar o' herbs?"

"Why yes, I didn't want it to get lost among all my instruments."

"Och … a weddin' ring? I dinna think so—more like it's a witch's charm ye hid from us poor Highlanders."

With a glance at the remaining materials, she said, "What other charms have ye got hidden in the rest o' these?"

She began tossing more bottles and tins to the floor again. "Fitz," I cried. "I have need of you."

Out of the corner my eye, I spotted one of the maids outside the surgery, who then ran to get Fitz for me. The castle matron hurried into the room, breathless. Her mouth opened in astonishment. "Oh, my. What's amiss?"

I extended my arms, gesturing to the disaster that recently had been neat and organized. "As you can plainly see, your granddaughter is vandalizing my surgery. Can you please take her away from here?"

"Laoghaire," she scolded, noticing another container in the girl's hand. "Whate'er's gotten into ye? Put that down now. We'll sort this out later."

Fitz turned to me, shamefaced, after putting a firm grip about the girl's shoulder. "I'm sorry for all this unpleasantness. I'll send in Mairi to help ye wi' straightenin' op, aye?"

"Thank you, Fitz."

Laoghaire twisted out of her grandmother's grasp. Her eyes full of hate, she shrieked, "Ye'll pay for this, witch. I swear on my mum's grave. Ye'll pay!"

Fitz shook Laoghaire. "Ye should be ashamed o' yerself, Lass. Now, come along wi' me."

Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ, the saying is true: _Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned._

I scanned the room, gazing at the upturned tins and bottles, the contents piled like ant hills here and there. Thankfully only two of the glass vials had been shattered. I had some empty ones I could fill. However, the problem lay in replenishing my store of herbs.

* * *

"I canna imagine it. Ye mean to say as she op and caused a stramash in the surgery?"

"Yes, indeed. That's exactly what I'm telling you. She all but destroyed a good portion of my stores on one of the shelves. I had to yell for Fitz to retrieve her. Laoghaire was acting like a rabid beast."

"Weel, I suppose it's time to move on then. I'll take ye to Lallybroch. The lass has accosted ye too many times now, and nay tellin' what she may do next. I canna abide it."

"You realize of course that this is all your fault?"

"My fault?"

"Yes, if you hadn't led her on…"

I frowned. Her words made nay bit o' sense. "I dinna take yer meanin', Sassenach."

She stared at me as if I could glean what she meant. "Really, Jamie. You caused her to imagine that you had some feelings for her. My god, you kissed the girl. What was she supposed to think?"

"Oh, aye. I shouldna let her do that. But what's doon is doon. We'll leave here on the morrow."


	8. Chapter 8: A Spanner in the Works

Chapter 8: A Spanner in the Works

Disclaimer: D. Gabaldon owns all rights to Outlander.

* * *

I thought as leastwise, it would only be fit and proper to go to my uncle, Colum, and tell him as we would be leavin' for Lallybroch the next day.

He stood rigid on his bowed legs, a stern look opon his countenance.

My face reddened in embarrassment; he did nay seem happy wi' the news. I stammered, "I'm verra sorry, Uncle, but we must take our leave. Ye ken as Claire has been sorely abused by the MacKenzie lass, and I canna cause a rift in the family by accusin' her. And so it's come to this—I've decided to return to Lallybroch."

Frownin' at me, he said, "Ye're sayin' as ye'll be leavin' Leoch wi'out a Beaton?"

"If there was ana other way, but, aye, it canna be helped."

"I'll no allow it. Ye'll stay here, along wi' yer wife 'til I give ye my blessin' to leave. I'm certain as if ye talk to the lass' father, there'll be nay more o' this folderol."

"I mean ye no disrespect, Uncle, but I believe it would just stir op bad feelin's amongst the kin. I canna do it."

"Weel, now, that's op to ye, lad, but ye'll no be goin' to Lallybroch wi'out my say so."

"Can ye no find another Beaton?"

"Should I waste my time, searchin' the Highlands for a healer, when I already have one in my possession?" He pointed to the door, and brayed, "Now, get out o' my sight afore I send ye straightaway to the oubliette."

* * *

I stormed into the bedroom that night. "Whatever in the world is going on? Rupert followed me everywhere I went today. He even had the audacity to park himself outside the entrance to the surgery, as if I was a blasted prisoner."

"Och … it seems as Colum has other ideas 'bout our travelin' to Lallybroch. He fears as he may ne'er come opon another skilled healer, such as yerself, ken? He canna risk losin' ye."

"So he's posting guards to see that we don't escape? Bloody hell, we'll be stuck here at the mercy of that lying little schemer."

"I expect so."

* * *

Weeks passed, and I was most annoyed by either some shadow—notably Rupert or Willie—following in my wake, or the fair-haired vixen giving me the evil eye as she passed by me. I was on edge every minute of those days, but truth be told, my persistent shadows deterred Laoghaire from entering my inner sanctum or harassing me in the hallways. I could put up with her sour looks at least. But then the day came when the sentries grew complacent, and then ultimately omitted their guard duties altogether.

Laoghaire didn't waste much time to continue her attacks on me, for on the second day, without my personal buffers, she deliberately bumped into me, a scornful mask of hate apparent on her face. I halted in my tracks. Eyeing her intensely, I said, "You know, Laoghaire, this constant belittling of me does not immure Jamie to you. In fact, it has had the opposite effect. It has alienated him to the point of despising you."

"Ye're lyin'."

Don't believe me…? I don't give a fig about it. Go ask him yourself if you dare. Or are you afraid of the truth?"

She glared at me, and turned, walking away. I doubted if the lass would go to the source. The truth stings unmercifully, and I had no magical unguent to relieve it.

* * *

The waitin' for the opportunity to depart was wearin' on me. When I decided as the watchful eyes o' my kin were turned away, we would defy Colum's edict, and flee. Two days prior to our leave, Claire scrambled 'bout procurin' some provisions and such to sustain us on our journey. Then the day arrived. Packin' our belongin's—and few there be—we loaded them onto Donas and Brimstone. Startin' out afore dawn, we wouldna be missed 'til noontime, aye? I was worrit tho' as Claire wouldna be able to endure travelin' on horseback what wi' her condition and all.

"Are ye sure ye can travel wi'out harm, Sassenach?"

"I'm certain it's safer than having that odious child tripping me in the hallways."

"Och … I take yer meanin'."

"Besides, if the blessed Mary could ride on a donkey from Nazareth to Bethlehem when she was ready to deliver her child, then I imagine I can do the same."

* * *

I didn't remember Lallybroch being so far away, but then, the last time we came, Jamie wasn't stopping every few miles or so, in consideration of my current condition. At nightfall, we camped after that sweet man set up a lean-to to protect me from the elements.

We rode most of the next day, and by mid-afternoon, Jamie's childhood home burst into view. Even to this day, the sight of it caused my breath to catch in my throat.

"D'ye see it, Sassenach? Lallybroch—just o'er that rise."

"It's beautiful." _First time I set my eyes upon it, or the 100_ _th_.

* * *

As we entered the archway, Jenny came to greet us, or more correctly, her brother at least. She was raven-haired unlike Jamie, with dark eyes, and appeared to be in the last trimester of pregnancy.

Oh lord, we no sooner stood toe to toe with her than my Scotty began to upbraid the poor woman. I had to endure the unpleasant exchange between the warring siblings, since my clot-headed husband cast erroneous aspersions upon his sister. Thankfully, Ian arrived during the heated discussion, and cleared up the misunderstanding. Then, Jamie finally got around to introducing me to his family.

"Ian, Jenny, I'd like to present my wife to ye. This is Claire."

Jenny huffed, looking me up and down, taking in the obvious bump, and said, "I heard ye got yerself marrit in a bit o' a rush, and now I can see why."

Jamie colored at that insinuation, and rebutted, "Nay … it wasna like that. I …"

I pulled at his sleeve, and shook my head. I would not be the cause of a family feud. Under my breath, I muttered, "Let her think what she likes for now. We can sort it out later."

She apparently heard my remark, for she replied, "Weel, far be it for me to judge, unlike yerself."

Ian interceded, his eyes raised to the sky, "Come—ye must be knackered wi' all that ridin'." He hobbled beside us, as he led us into the main dwelling.

* * *

Jenny had her hackles raised all during dinner, and when I went with her to wash up the dishes, she shooed me away, abruptly slamming a pot down on the counter. "I dinna need any help from ye, Claire. I've been doin' since I was knee high to a sheave o' barley."

I stood there like an imbecile, not knowing how to break the ice.

Her arms were crossed over her chest, her dark eyes boring holes in my head. "Well, are ye gonta leave my kitchen, or no?"

Extending my hand in supplication, I told her, "I'd like to clear the air if I may. Jenny … it's not what you think."

"So, ye're doin' my thinkin' for me now, are ye? I'll thank ye to let me make op my own mind."

"I wouldn't assume to do such a thing."

"He didna marry ye because ye were wi' child, then?"

"Absolutely not, rather, in spite of it. I'm a widow, you see. Anyway, that's neither here nor there. The gist of it is, Dougal forced the marriage … but we're man and wife now, and I do believe I've made your brother happy."

"Is that so?"

"You don't have to take my word for it. You can go and ask your brother." My words came out a little more harshly than I would have wished, but I was getting exasperated with the stubborn woman.

"Pfft!"

I threw my hands up in the air. "Oh, sod it all, can't we at least try to be civil? We're family, like it or not. For Jamie's sake, let's act like mature adults. We don't have to be bosom friends."

"As ye say, but only for Jamie's sake." She turned back to scraping the dishes, and waved me away.

* * *

Communications at the estate were awkward at best, for several weeks in fact. But, finally, Jenny seemed to accept the status quo. At any rate, she most probably came to the conclusion that there was nothing she could do about it, seeing as Jamie doted on me.

"I'll admit at first I thought maybe ye trapped Jamie into weddin' ye, but seein' as how content he is, I expect whether ye did or no, it's nay matter now. Still—I canna have ye helpin' wi' the cookin'. Ye may be a Beaton wi' herbs and such, but yer cookin' isna good for the hounds."

"All right. I must say, that is a fair estimation of my culinary prowess. But, bloody hell, I do try."

"Aye, bluidy hell, ye do!"

Ian stood in the doorway, eyebrows raised in shock at his wife's language. "Jenny …!"

"Dinna Jenny me, Ian Murray. I hear ye swearin' day in and day out. And ye canna deny it."

"Aye, but ye ken as it's nay befittin' a woman."

"Och … d'ye suppose only men have tongues in their heids?"

The defeated male, scratched his head. "Weel, no."

"Good, we agree. Then get out o' my kitchen, and leave us to our swearin'."

I heard Ian as he left, tell Jamie, "Yer wife is a bad influence on my Jenny."

"Ah, so ye've noticed, have ye? Lassies these days, are getting' uppity. I'm sure ye still love her tho', uppity and all." Jamie then slapped Ian's back, and the sound of the impact was followed by laughter.

* * *

E'en tho' Sassenach was teachin' my dear sister to use language unbecomin' a lady, I was verra glad to see them becomin' closer. Claire was a strong woman, mind, and it ne'er occurred to me to chastise her for her particular use o' the vernacular. I expect Ian would do the same.

Besides instructin' my sister in profanity, Claire also gave her important steps to take to ensure a measure o' safety in the impendin' birth. When the day o' Jenny's travail occurred, Sassenach was by her side, and after the wee bairn took his first breath, she and Claire were as thick as thieves.

"I'm verra glad ye were here to see to my sister at her lyin' in time. I ken as it was a great comfort to her."

"It was my pleasure. And now that she has a rudimentary knowledge of birthing a baby, she can reciprocate the necessary actions on my behalf."

I wondered, "How much longer d'ye suppose It'll be for us to welcome our own bairn?"

She sat in front o' the dresser mirror, brushin' out her black curls. "Oh, I imagine another five weeks or so."

"Ah …" I knelt down afore her, and placed my hands opon her belly, feelin' the wee bairn movin' 'bout inside her womb. "I dinna ken why, but I feel as tho' this child is truly mine."

 _It is, Jamie, it is …_


	9. Chapter 9 The truth Comes Out

Chapter 9: The Truth Comes Out

Disclaimer: D. Gabaldon owns all rights to Outlander

* * *

Funny thing about birthing a child; you forget the suffering you went through the last time, but when the labor starts, it bloody well comes back to you in a hurry. Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ, how do women bear this pain so many times? Don't get me wrong, I loved Jamie dearly, but I'd god-dammed him to hell numerous times in the throes of my travail. God in heaven, I was ever so grateful when it was over, and I held my little Titian-haired daughter, snug against my breast.

At least, at present, this was a happy occasion, not like the birth of my first-born, Faith, who never took a breath.

I was beside myself listenin' to my wife durin' her ordeal, wishin' I could trade places wi' her. I kept pacin' 'bout the sittin' room, doin' ever'thin' but sittin'. Ian tried to comfort me, pattin' a seat beside him. "All the walkin' in the world will nay make the bairn come ana sooner. Stop yer worryin'. She'll be fine, lad, and so will the child."

I fell onto the bench, hunched forward wi' my heid in my hands. My godfather came op behind me and put his hands opon my shoulders. "Listen to Ian, Jamie. He's been thru this many times afore."

Finally, I heard a bairn's cry and inhaled a needful breath. Mistress Brodie opened the door to the bedroom and bade us enter.

The room was filled with family—and my midwife, Mistress Brodie, whom my husband insisted upon—to pay their respects to Jamie's firstborn child, I suppose. Even Murtagh was in attendance, he having arrived three days earlier to visit. I must say, the scrappy curmudgeon couldn't have timed it more perfectly. And here they all stood with mouths agape, confusion written on each face.

Murtagh turned to my perplexed Scotty. "Och … the bairn, I swear, is the spittin' image of ye, Jamie. Mind, it was a verra long time past when I saw ye in yer mother's arms, but if I didna ken ana better, I'd say as this was yer child. The wee lassie's got the same red, curly, muckle heid such as yerself." Glancing at me a moment, he said, "Beggin' yer pardon, Sassenach."

The midwife piped up, adding to Murtagh's comment, "Aye, I was an apprentice at yer birth, lad, and I do see the resemblance. There's nay denyin' the eyes, that nose, and the hair!"

She canted her head, her eyes targeting mine. "Ye did say as this bairn was o' yer late husband, did'ye no?"

"Yes, I did."

"It's verra strange indeed; one to puzzle out for certain."

Jamie, it appeared was totally speechless. He just stared at our little miracle, and coming closer to the bed, held my hand, peppering it with kisses. Cautiously, he buzzed my cheek. I imagine he feared I would break.

Ian and Jenny excused themselves, Jenny shooing the well-wishers out the door. "Come along, you, as weel, Jamie. Claire needs her rest. I'll make us all some tea."

I heard Murtagh mutter, "I believe we need somethin' a bit stronger to celebrate this occasion. Just a wee dram, ye ken."

Jamie slapped his shoulder. "Aye, and Iken just where she hides the bottle."

* * *

I returned to her room, after Murtagh and I drained the whiskey. Claire and our child were asleep, or so I thought. While I looked at my new family, a bit o' pride filled my chest. I'd do right by them, or die, tryin'.

As I turned to leave, Sassenach stirred, one hand juttin' out o' the covers. "Jamie, don't go; come here, and sit down by me."

"Are ye sure? I dinna want ye to get too puckled."

"I assure you. I'm fine, and I could do with your company."

Seatin' myself, I felt at a loss for words. Sassenach filled in the silence.

"So, what do you think?"

I couldn't help smilin'. "I think, I already like her just fine."

Claire sat op suddenly and lifted the bairn. "Would you like to hold her?"

"D'ye think it would be alright?"

She shook her heid in amusement. "Put out your arms."

I did as she told me, and Claire placed the wee one in them. Christ, the emotion overwhelmed me as I gazed into that sweet little face, and my eyes began to glisten wi' tears.

"Isn't she beautiful?"

"Aye, I canna deny it."

Sassenach stretched out her arms, to receive our Brianna, but I wasna havin' it. "No yet. Canna I hold her just a bit longer?"

With a wink, Claire said, "I see I'll be in competition for your attention, Da."

I expect she was right in that assumption.

* * *

I dreaded what was imminent in our near future, and sure enough, in the following week, here they came—McGuire and his cronies from The Watch. I let most of the scenes play out, but when it came time for Jamie to join them in the disastrous scheme to waylay the English soldiers, I took Brianna, and rode off, yelling, "Goodbye, Jamie!"

So startled by my actions, he turned Donas around and bolted after me. He signaled to McGuire to go on, allowing the others to trot off to their doom. Personally, I thought those brigands were worthy of the hangman. They were no better than thieves and thugs, and good riddance to them all. My sweet Scotty had no business throwing in with the lot of them.

Needing Jamie to put a good distance between those men and himself, I spurred Brimstone on, Brianna wrapped in a sling, strapped tightly to my chest. I led him on a merry chase until I was bloody well certain that there was no recourse for him but to stay at Lallybroch, safe with his family. Thus, he would remain free of the prison at Wentworth, and the heinous deeds perpetrated upon him by that sadistic beast, Black Jack Randall.

Jamie galloped ahead of me, blocking Brimstone's path. I reined in my animal, as he hopped down.

Helping me from the saddle, he then stood toe to toe with me, fuming, "Christ, Sassenach, what are ye 'bout? Have ye gone daft o' a sudden?"

"On the contrary, your _holy lairdship_. I've never been so clear of mind."

"But what o' our wee bairn? Ye couldha caused her great harm."

"Nonsense. It would take a team of wild horses to tear her from my bosom. Brianna was never in any danger, but _you_ were. I could not, in good conscience, let you ride off to your death with those horrible men."

"Ye dinna ken as much for a surety."

"No? Well now … I know for a fact that they'll all be killed at the MacFayden Bridge. They were betrayed and ambushed. And none escaped with their lives with the exception of McGuire. He'll escape from the slaughter, but unfortunately not the noose. He'll be hung at Wentworth Prison for treason."

"Och … I swear, lass, sometimes ye put such a fright in my heart. Ye ken so many thin's as hadna happened yet. And still, I love ye all the same." He looked behind him at Lallybroch. "I suppose The Watch is too far for me to catch them op, so I'll be stayin' wi' ye and the bairn at home."

With a smug expression on my face, I replied, "My plan exactly."

Jamie hoisted me onto Brimstone's back, and mounting his own animal, took both reins in his hand. We walked the horses to the Lallybroch stables.

Several weeks passed, and I kept my secret close to my vest. Then, one day, I asked Jamie to fetch me a nappy for Brianna. I had previously wrapped my wedding ring—the prior one—in an arisaid. It lay in the top drawer of the highboy. The man clumsily pulled on the nappy. Of course, out tumbled the ring.

Scooping it up from the floor, Jamie asked, "Claire, why are ye no wearin' yer weddin' band?"

Not seeing that my hidden ring had been uncovered, I said, "What are you going on about? It's right here on my finger." I raised my hand for his viewing pleasure, wiggling it so that the light glinted off of the metal. "See?"

Extending his hand, he frowned, and said, "Then what might this be lyin' in my palm?" He looked from one to the other. "I canna understand how there could be two o' them."

I got up from the chair I was seated in, holding onto Brianna. "Oh, blast! I may as well get this over with, although I'd better have your family in here first. They should hear this as well."

Jamie left the room, and returned, Murtagh, Ian and Jenny in tow. Looking into their expectant faces, I began, "I need to explain something to all of you. The reason Brianna looks so much like Jamie is quite simple. The child is his."

Jenny tapped her foot, and glaring at her brother, huffed, "So, I was right to accuse ye, and there ye were, pointin' yer finger at me."

"But I…"

Putting out my hand to stop her, I said, "Jenny, no. I'll start from the beginning, if I may."

"Go right ahead. We're all here to listen to this frippery."

I sighed. Jenny was such a hard nut to crack. "You've heard stories about the stones of Craigh na Dun, and how people seemed to have disappeared mysteriously?"

"Aye."

"Those people did not simply vanish. They were transported through time. I know from experience, for I came through those very stones. I lived in the year 1945, and suddenly, I was outside Inverness, and the year was 1745. O dear, how to say this … Jamie and I were married, and there was a battle at Culloden, three years hence. He sent me back to my own time to protect me and his unborn child. I couldn't stand being separated from him, so I came back through again, only something went wrong, and instead, I arrived at 1745 once again. This present parcel of time is actually my past."

Utter silence.

I held up the ring. "This is the original band that Jamie gave me on our wedding day."

"Codswallop," Jenny hissed.

"I realize this is difficult to imagine, but you believe in fairies and witches, so what's so incredible about this tale? If what I've told isn't true, then what other explanation can there be?"

Murtagh, stepped forward. "I dinna ken; this is all verra hard to gnaw on, but yet there is a ring o' the truth 'bout it."

"I'll prove it to you." I pointed at Jamie. "Tell them what I said about McGuire and the rest of those chaps."

My Scotty took a deep breath and rehearsed all that I prophesized would befall that bunch. Ian blanched at the words. "Och … I did hear from the clishmaclaver as McGuire was to be strung up at Wentworth. The rest o' them were murdered at the bridge. It was as ye said, an ambush."

I stood straight as a poker. "Now you all know, it's up to you. Do what you wish with the information."

They all looked abashed as they walked from my bedroom. Only Jamie remained.

"Do you believe me?"

His lake-blue eyes peered into mine. "It does explain some thin's, mo nighean donn. Let's to bed wi' us, aye?"


	10. Chapter 10: Plans for Escape

Chapter 10: Plans for Escape

Disclaimer: D. Gabaldon owns all rights to Outlander

* * *

"To bed with us? Really, Jamie… That's not as easy as it once was. I need another nappy first. Brianna is wet again."

Jamie grimaced, and pointing at the drawer, said, "There's nay more to be found in the dresser is there?"

"No, I imagine one secret revealed is enough."

* * *

As the weeks passed, Jamie became more enamored of our little one and less shy about holding her or rocking her while on his broad shoulder. I got in the habit of sneaking into our room, and up behind him, while he was thus occupied, a wan smile upon his face. There was no doubt in my mind that he would make an exceptional father, and my heart was imbued to overflowing with love for both of them. One day though, I sat, and staring down at my daughter, tears began to form in my eyes in remembrance of the other child that Jamie had no knowledge of. He would never get to hold her or coo to her as with Brianna.

Jamie walked in and noticed my tear-streaked face. "Sassenach, are ye cryin'?"

Wiping the wet drops away quickly, I forced a smile, and answered, "No, I was …"

"Aye, ye are. But why are ye?"

He hunkered down in front of me, eyes wide, and ears opened.

I swallowed hard. "Jamie, there's something I must tell you."

With furrows of concern stretched across his brow, he pleaded, "Ye're no leavin' me, are ye?"

"Good heavens, no. I could never do that. It's the reason I came back. You were the one who insisted I go through the stones and return to my own time. And now we're reaping the consequences."

I shook my head, trying to decide how to explain. After deliberating for a good couple of ticks, I exclaimed, "Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ, where on earth do I start?"

"Anawhere ye wish, Claire."

Pointing across the room, I directed, "Alright, but pull up a chair. I can't abide you getting cramps in your legs from crouching for such an extended length of time."

Jamie stood and dragged the chair from the far corner, placing it catty-cornered to me. He sat down and leaned forward. "Out wi' it, now."

"I shall start at the point of Dougal collecting monetary support for Bonny Prince Charlie."

He let a long breath escape his lips. "That much is true, for my own back played a part in it. I suppose Dougal hoped the pitiful sight would extract more o' the king's shillin's from the folk."

I took his hand, being careful, not to disturb the baby asleep on my lap. "And it worked to his advantage, I dare say. But, Jamie, when I thwarted your plan to throw in with McGuire and his bunch, I saved you from torture inflicted by that odious creature, Randall. In the prior timeline—I guess you might say—your kin and I rescued you from Wentworth prison and a date with the noose. You were again being sought as an escaped prisoner, and for that reason, we traveled abroad to France. While there, we cavorted with the royal toffs at King Louis' court and thereby came in contact with Prince Charlie. We were there to prevent the war that was to come; instead, the arrogant fool enlisted your aid in his cause. Culloden was the battle that sealed the fate of your countrymen. Scotland would never be the same. Culture, sovereignty, all dissolved in one fell swoop. I imagine Dougal, Murtagh, Rupert, and Angus will all pay the price with their lives on that moor … yourself included."

"And that's why ye're cryin' aye?"

"That's only part of it. While we were in Paris, I was pregnant with another child … your child. I gave birth prematurely, due to unforeseen circumstances. Her name was Faith, but our little girl didn't survive." Blinking away tears again, I whimpered, "I suppose there will not even be a marker for her gravesite since it hasn't happened yet." I huffed in frustration. "Oh, blast it, this is absolutely mind-boggling."

"Stars and stones, are ye sayin' I was a father afore?"

Gazing into his eyes, I said, "Yes, and my biggest regret is that you'll never get to see her face."

"Did she have the red hair like our Brianna?"

"No, she took after me. Faith had dark hair. She had your eyes though."

He nodded, comprehending my words. "Ah …"

"Jamie, I can't bring back my dear Faith, but I can prevent your association with Prince Charlie, and perhaps Culloden will never come to pass. At least that's my hope."

He lifted me from the rocking chair, baby and all, and with his arms embracing us, said, "Dinna fash, Sassenach, all will be weel."

 _If only I could certain of that._

* * *

Rumor spread all the way to our home at Lallybroch that Dougal was still at it; siphoning money from the populace for the Jacobean cause. But was it really just a rumor? Even with Jamie's disfigured back as an enticement to donate, Dougal was determined to promote the Prince's ambition to gain the throne. Knowing the prince to be a foppish numpty with delusions of grandeur, I pitied the ones who overlooked his lack of talent and would propel him onto the dais simply because his blood was blue.

Would that he'd shed his own blood, and leave Scotland unscathed. Alas, the would-be monarch had no such intentions, and without a hint of conscience, send the Highlanders to their ultimate end. I doubted that an excursion to France now could rescind the debacle that was Culloden. And so, for the next thirty months, this sword of Damocles hung over my head, marring my happiness. Jamie, so far, had managed to stay clear of the skirmishes and battles that the foolish, little warmonger championed. I wished to keep it that way.

* * *

By now, Brianna was three years old, and the apple of her father's eye. Nothing seemed to escape the child, and she listened when we adults discussed the chaos surrounding us. One day, she looked up from playing with her doll, and yanked on the leg of Jamie's Breeks. He bent down and hoiked her up to his shoulder.

"Weel now, Bree, is somethin' troublin' ye?"

She patted his cheek, and asked, "Da, ye willna leave us, and go fight wi' those soldiers, will ye?"

"Nay, I canna do it. Yer mum, and yerself have need o' my protection here. I dinna see the sense o' fightin' for a losin' cause when I can be of use to Lallybroch."

Her tears began to flow. "Good … 'cuz I dinna want ye to die."

"I'm nay gonta die, Bree."

"But Mama said …"

He put her down, and explained, "Yer mum kens a bit o' thin's to come, but she warned me in time, so ye need no fash o'er it, mind? Now would ye like to sit on my lap and hear a story?"

She climbed up onto his lap, her arms about his neck. "What story?"

"'Bout how I met yer mum."

"Agin? Why canna ye tell me 'bout ye and Uncle Murtagh kilt that bluidy ol' boar."

I listened with interest at the entire conversation, but at the mention of the boar hunt, I yelled from the kitchen, "Jamie, no!"

Bree fired back, "Please, Mama, please."

Coming into the sitting room, while wiping my hands on a towel, I cautioned, "Jamie Fraser, that is not a fit tale to be told to a little girl."

"But I like it."

Flicking the towel, at my Scotty, I said, "Oh, very well, if you must." I gave Jamie the eye. "Can you please temper it a tad so as not to scare her to pieces?"

Brianna frowned, "Oh, Mama, I liketa be scairt."

Jenny appeared in the doorway, with her arms akimbo. "Claire, the bannocks are doon bakin'. If ye dinna mind, I can use yer help."

I hurried back to the kitchen, while looking over at the smug storyteller, and mumbled, "Definitely your daughter."

* * *

I frequently had access to information concerning the conflicts between the Highlanders and His Majesty's professional army. It was beginning to appear urgent that we flee to safety. I confronted my sweetheart with, "We need to leave, Jamie. It's time. Culloden is on the horizon, and I imagine Dougal will be sending word for you to come join them."

I finished changing into my night clothes and walked to the vanity to brush out my hair. Jamie had just removed his jerkin when I turned to him and said, "I'll let you explain our decision to Ian and Jenny."

He sat at the edge of the bed and began doffing his boots. "Will they be safe here, d'ye think?"

"I don't know, but it stands to reason that Ian can in no way be conscripted into Charlie's rag-tag, gang of rebels. He'd be of little use to them."

Picking up his boots, he placed them near the headboard. "I see as it's so. I'll go 'round on the morrow to tell them."

* * *

As we pitched hay to the cows, Ian said, "I willna go wi' ye, Jamie. I love ye like my own brother, but my home is here. I ken as Jenny will feel the same."

"Whether or no ye come wi' us, we havta be off. Claire thinks ye'll be fine if ye stay put. I only wished to offer ye our company when we go."

Leanin' on his pitchfork, Ian replied. "I thank ye for yer kind consideration, but ye needna worry 'bout us. We'd come thru worse times such as this. Leastwise, we'll no have the pleasure o' the Watch imposin' on our hospitality. I expect they're all in the fields scrappin' for the bonny prince, and they're welcome to it."

"I imagine there's truth in what ye say. I wish ye luck then."

Ian canted his head. "Och … I hear Jenny callin'. Breakfast is on the table. We'd best no be late. Ye ken how she can get."

"Nay, I've ne'er kent her to lose her temper."

We both laughed, and Ian slapped me on the back. One last heave o' the hay, and we then picked op the milk pails and trekked wi' them to the kitchen to keep my sister in good spirits.

* * *

Ireland, Guernsey, Isle of Skye? I wracked my brains, pondering where we should head. Oh bollox, Guernsey was _very_ English. I didn't suppose the people there would approve of my choice of mate. Not Guernsey then. Ireland? Bloody hell, the Catholics and Protestants were warring constantly. I wanted to avoid war, not embroil ourselves into another one. I sighed, was there any place safe from swords and pistols?

I wondered if I should just spread a map out upon the wall, blindfold myself and throw a dart in its general direction.

* * *

Before our departure, the unexpected arrival of Murtagh cemented my resolve to follow Claire. He stood at the door, looked me straight in the eye, and said, "Dougal sent me. He says we need ye to lead the men on the field at Culloden."

"Nay, Sassenach and I willna stay here in Scotland. We're takin' our leave o' this place."

I leaned toward my godfather. "Claire says as ye all will die on that moor. Come wi' us, for, ye ken as what she predicts is the truth. The bonny prince is a fool, and this is a fool's errand. Dinna go there to fight, Murtagh, if ye wish to live."

Murtagh scratched at his beard. "What will I say to Dougal?"

"Nothin'. Because ye'll no go to him, ken?"

He shook his heid and looked down at his boots. "Och … it seems to me verra dishonorable."

Cockin' one eyebrow, I told him, "Better ye to be dishonorable alive, than honorable as a corpse, aye?"

"I ne'er backed away from a battle afore."

"Aye, but ye'll live to fight another day."

"I see yer point, lad. When d'we leave?"

"In three days hence."

"Can ye put me op for those days, then?"

"Oh, aye. Claire, nor Jenny, nor Ian will object."

"Alright, ye convinced me. So be it."


	11. Chapter 11: Skye Life

Chapter 11: Skye Life

Disclaimer: D. Gabaldon owns all rights to Outlander

* * *

Jamie and Ian were relaxing in front of the hearth. I interrupted their conversation. "Jamie, may I talk with you for a moment?" He stood, nodding at Ian, who said, "Weel, I best be turnin' in anaways. Jenny will be wantin' some help wi' the bairn."

After he left the room, I continued, "I've researched all the areas we could possibly emigrate to, and I believe the Isle of Skye will meet our requirements."

"Where is that, Sassenach? I dinna believe I've e'er heard o' such a place."

"Of course you have. It's that big island off the west coast."

He scratched at the back of his head. "Oh, aye. Ye must mean An t-Eilean Sgitheanach."

"Whatever its name, that's where we headed."

It was heart-wrenching to say the least when giving our goodbyes to Ian, Jenny, and their brood. I'd never actually had a family like here at Lallybroch, and the pain of severing that relationship rent a jagged tear through my heart.

"Ye take care now on that island o' yers," Ian said, as he clasped Jamie's hand.

I felt my composure crumbling at his words, and got a tad misty-eyed when I faced Jenny. She frowned at me, and taunted, "Dinna get all mawkish on our account. I expect we'll meet again sometime in the future."

She hugged me fiercely, then lifted Brianna up into her arms. "Give yer Aunt Jenny a kiss, Lassie, for I'll no see ye for a while."

Brianna's little face wrinkled in confusion. "Why?"

"Weel, ye'll be movin' far away from me, ken?"

"Nay, I dinna wanta go. I'll no leave ye, Auntie."

Our little one clung to her aunt like a stubborn barnacle. Jamie had to forcibly extricate her as she kicked and screamed. Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ, it was challenging enough for Jamie and me, but Brianna bawled and bawled as if her heart was breaking in two.

Murtagh missed all the kerfuffle; he had gone on ahead to secure lodging for the night.

* * *

It took six days to reach Kyle of Lochalsh, where we would board a ferry to transport us to Kyleakin. In all that time, Brianna remained unusually quiet. Every time I looked into those sad, little, blue eyes, the guilt would rear up and eat at me, despite the fact that I was doing this out of preservation for our family.

The ferry ride across the narrows of Loch Alsh went smoothly. It wasn't an overly extended journey, thank heavens, since I remembered how green Jamie got on our last sea voyage. However, it wasn't without some minor disturbances, as Donas did not take to traveling on the ocean, and Jamie and Murtagh had their hands full, trying to calm the beast at regular intervals.

* * *

We arrived at Elgol by the next three days and were verra successful at procurin' a croft wi' the purse Jenny had given to me. What wi' my godfather helpin' us, the place was fit to live in—in nay time atall.

Brianna became accustomed to the place and met op right quick wi' a young bairn as was her own age soon after we moved in. I was verra pleased.

Murtagh had been earnin' money by harvestin' the kelp on the coastline. He came back e'er few days or so, and this day, he found me out back curryin' Donas and Brimstone. He was all aquiver wi' excitement. "Have ye heard, lad?"

I put down the brush, and asked, "Heard what?"

"Why, the Jacobites have been defeated, and the clans are nay more. Culloden was the last stand. I expect as our fightin' kin were lost as weel on that bluidy moor. Yer Sassenach warned us as much, and right she was, ken?"

I nearly fell to my knees and leaned agin' Donas to prevent my doin' so. "They're all dead?"

"Aye, but we're still alive, thanks to yer wife."

The news spread amongst our neighbors 'bout the Jabobite cause bein' quashed. I told Claire, during our dinner one e'enin', "The clishmaclaver hints as the bonny prince was rescued, and may e'en be hidden on this verra island."

She swallowed what she was chewin' and replied, "That is true. He was saved by a woman named Flora MacDonald, and she smuggled him to Kilmuir." She glared at me, and shakin' a spoon in front o' my nose, said, "I'm warning you, Jamie, stay away from that place."

"Ye have my word."

Brianna sat op in her chair, and looked from Sassenach to me. "What's a Jack-er-bite, Da?"

 _Christ …_ "I'll tell ye when ye're older."

* * *

Claire surprised me what wi' all her knowledge o' the rebellion and the fate o' one, Charles Edward Stuart, but e'en more surprisin', was what she told me two months later. While we were gettin' ready for bed, Claire turned to me, wi' a funny look 'bout her.

"Sassenach, are ye alright?"

"Of course. It's just that there's something I must tell you."

I pulled my sark op o'er my head. "Aye, go on."

"Well, it's this—would it be upsetting to you to become a father once more?"

I threw the sark to the floor in my excitement. "Are ye sayin' as ye're wi' child?"

"Yes, that's precisely what I'm—"

I hoiked my woman op off her feet and kissed her soundly. After settin' her down agin, I grinned like a fool, and said, "I expect as I'm the luckiest Scotsman in this land."

Cockin' one eyebrow, she saucily replied, "Am I to assume that this wasn't unwanted news, then?"

"Och … nay, ye've made me verra happy—so happy as I may break out in song."

* * *

The years passed, and I gave Jamie two more bairns, Ian and Jenny. We were content in our little croft.

One day, Jamie, while staring into the fireplace, asked me, "How old are ye, Sassenach?"

"Oh, no, now that's a secret that I will never divulge. A lass has to have some mystery about her, aye?"

I winked at my Scotty and smiled.

The End


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